


Glimpses of Perfection

by Glitchy Charlizard (CharlieMistry)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Fashion & Couture, First Dates, Lapdance, M/M, Music, Relationship Advice, Strip Tease, Tom jones - Freeform, Tumblr: otpprompts, fashion - Freeform, perfectworldshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMistry/pseuds/Glitchy%20Charlizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots and drabbles regarding the silly fiery romance between a lion and a tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fashion Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Heeehee. Whoops, I don't even know. Perfectworldshipping happened.
> 
> For this chapter, I can't thank ryttu3k enough! She did a beautiful job of Beta-ing this for me. I wasn't going to publish this, as I thought it was dumb, but she did such a fantastic job of polishing it that... yeah, here we are! So, thankyouthankyouthankyou, also, read her stuff because it is amazing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysandre had asked Augustine out on a date. Augustine must go to his movie star BFF Diantha for fashion advice.

Diantha had wanted a relaxing day off. What she got instead was a 7 AM phone call that was getting so high-pitched that only Espurrs could hear it.

"Augustine, calm down or I’m hanging up and turning off my phone," she warned.

On the other end of the line, her dear old friend Augustine let out a deep breath. " _He_ asked _me_ on a date!" he explained, a still faintly hysterical pitch to his voice.

"Darling, that’s a good thing. You _wanted_ him to ask you first because you were scared of him turning you down!"

"Yes, but..." There was an almost audible wince in his voice. "I have a... mild concern."

"...No, you shouldn't go all the way on the first date."

"Putain! Nothing like that! I just... I don't know what to wear."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed yet again. "I'll come visit you at a slightly less ridiculous hour."

 

Later in the day, when most sane people were actually up and about, Augustine welcomed Diantha up into his apartment and led her to his room.

"I don't even know where to start," he said forlornly, throwing himself on the bed and staring at his closet like it was about to challenge him to a Pokemon battle.

Shaking her head, Diantha approached the closet, pulling it open. "Remember when you came out of here?" she said with a snicker.

"Not funny!"

Still chuckling to herself, she shuffled through the selection of outfits, her eyebrows rising ever higher. "Augustine," she finally sighed, after looking through about as much as she could tolerate.

"So, what do you think? Maybe the denim suit?"

She hoped he was joking. He had to be joking. He stood up and picked up the relevant coat hanger.

He was clearly _not_ joking.

"Lysandre favours fire type Pokémon, doesn’t he?" she growled.

Augustine grinned, blushing a little. "Oui! Why do you ask?"

"Because, I swear to Arceus, your wardrobe should be burnt."

The grin disappeared.

-

"My clothes aren't that bad!" Augustine argued as Diantha led him up the stairs at Boutique Couture, having been unceremoniously kidnapped, forced into a taxi, and driven to the most expensive clothing shop in Kalos.

"Windcheater. Bucket hat. Orange nylon shirt. Crocs. _Crocs_ , Augustine!" she wailed, nearly knocking over a display with her flailing.

"But they're _comfortable_! And even you have to agree," he pointed out, "They have a certain pop art kind of visual appeal."

Diantha walked away and counted to ten, slowly. She had the feeling that a gruesome murder in the middle of a boutique wouldn't do her any good, and anyway, she wouldn't want to get blood on the clothes.

An assistant approached Diantha, her eyes wide and starstruck. "Ch-champion Diantha!" the teenager stuttered, patting down her blonde hair frantically, "How can I help you today?" 

"Him," she replied bluntly, pointing at her walking fashion disaster of a friend. "He sees nothing wrong with wearing Crocs in public. He owns more valour than anyone I've ever met. He wanted to wear a _denim suit_ on a _date_!"

Perhaps she shouldn't have gone into such graphic detail - the girl looked positively nauseous.

"Augustine!" Diantha shouted suddenly as she caught a glimpse of movement, "Put down that Liepard print shirt, _now_!"

-

Hours later, they had finally agreed on an outfit. Diantha offered to pay for it, on the condition that she was allowed to donate his denim suit to a charity shop (which had taken some negotiation, as she had originally wanted to set it on fire then throw the ashes into the sea).

And now, he was all dressed up and ready for his date. A deep midnight blue shirt, with fitted grey slacks, a matching vest and shiny black shoes. Diantha shed a proud tear as she left her fashion project to wait for his date.

-

It was evening by the time the tall chiselled demigod that Augustine was thrilled to call his date arrived, giving him a bouquet of lilies and a kiss on each cheek.

"Merci, Lysandre!" he said with a giddy smile, placing them in a nearby vase. Returning his attention to his date, he noted the red-head's curious expression. "Are you quite all right?"

"Oui, you just look..." Lysandre trailed off. "Different."

"Oh?" Augustine chuckled. "Maybe it's my outfit? Do you like it?"

"Of course, just... Why are you wearing it?"

Augustine choked a little. Was Lysandre trying to get him naked this early on in the date? Not that he entirely minded that idea, but he had at least assumed that they would have dinner first...

"Why am I...?" he questioned after a moment, blushing vividly.

"Don't get me wrong, those clothes look positively... enticing on you. But I don't believe they're your clothes."

Augustine gave him an indignant look. "What are you trying to say? Yes, Diantha helped me pick out this outfit. I wanted to look good for you. You know I like you to an almost embarrassing degree. I didn't think you’d like me unless I wore something fashionable!"

Lysandre froze in his tracks.

"Augustine," the tall red-head eventually managed, "How long have we known each other?"

"Years. What's your point?" he huffed, folding his arms.

"And have I ever said that I disliked you because of your clothes?"

"Last week, you called me fashion-blind and said you were going to set my clothes on fire."

Lysandre chuckled. "Okay, forget that last point then." He straightened himself up. "Do you remember what you were wearing when I asked you on this date?"

Augustine had to think for a minute. "I can’t really remember."

"You were wearing a bucket hat, a windcheater, an obscene orange shirt and Crocs."

"You remember what I was wearing?"

"I remember every detail of that moment. It was of great significance to me."

"Oh..." he mumbled, blushing wildly again.

"I asked you on a date while you were dressed like that. Not because of the clothes you were wearing, because of _you_. You mean a lot to me, in spite of your hideous fashion sense."

Feeling somewhat like a marshmallow someone had left in the oven, Augustine melted, just a little.

"And," Lysandre continued, "If I _had_ asked you on a date based on your outfit, then I would've marched myself straight off to a psychiatrist."


	2. It's Not Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Based on an "imagine your otp" prompt) Having learnt that Lysandre doesn't really appreciate music, Augustine tries to teach him to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this one is um  
> yeah, i'll blame tumblr again.
> 
> http://mattormarina.tumblr.com/post/66434087737 mostly that post. that is actually the dance augustine does to that song so there.
> 
> oh yeah and otpprompts or imagineyourotp... or something... I actually really can't find the prompt, as apparently my phone made the prompt just disappear. I was certain I'd reblogged it, but nope. THANKS PHONE.  
> \----

"It's not that odd, Professor," Lysandre de Fleur sighed, as he read through some papers in the top floor of the Sycamore labs.

"But everyone loves music!" Professor Sycamore protested, pulling down the papers so he was all the other man could see.

Lysandre studied him with an air of irritation.  
"I don't have time for music," he explained, putting the papers down on the large desk beside him. "The only reason I have any playing in the café is because I believe the customers would riot or, at the very least, give me a review with half a star missing."

The professor chuckled. "You love beautiful things though. How can you not appreciate beautiful music?" 

"I already told you, Augustine. I just don't have time for music."

"Yet you have time for me," he pointed out, batting his eyelashes a little more coquettishly than he'd like to admit.

"Yes," he replied stiffly, trying to stifle down whatever feelings were stirring. "But you're different. You're important enough for me to _make_ time for you."

Augustine smiled and kissed him on the cheek then ran impishly over to his rakishly decorated record player.

-

Lysandre tried to be annoyed at the other man's persistence. But even his annoying quirks were breathtakingly endearing to him. He looked over to see what he was up to. He was bending over to rifle through his record collection (and posing in quite a deliberate fashion, wriggling his arse in the air as he went, the cheeky devil).

"Aha, here's a good one!" the dark haired eccentric announced, jumping up, clutching to a card sleeve. He pulled out a vinyl record and carefully, as though he were handling sacred materials, put it onto the turntable. 

Lysandre was surprised to find that the soft clicks and hums of the record player itself were actually quite comforting. Maybe he'd replace the ridiculously expensive surround dound HD super-duper just-for-the-sake-of-it sound system in his café with one of these. Or possibly download some ambient tracks of record player noises.

Then the music started playing and he remembered why he was against this idea.

_" It's not unusual to be loved by anyone,_  
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone"  
Augustine was already dancing in what Lysandre could only describe as a particularly Augustine way. He was swaying about, clicking his fingers and grinning like an idiot.

"Dance with me! It's the best way to enjoy music!" he laughed melodiously.

Lysandre shifted from one foot to the other. He was faintly reminded of being taught ballroom dancing in his youth. He kind of wanted to kick Augustine somewhere delicate then leave.

Augustine grabbed his hands and swung them about, lacking any grace or rhythm. Music was quickly becoming more of an annoyance than just a background feature. Even Augustine’s bright smile didn't make it worthwhile.

_"If you should ever want to be loved by anyone,_  
It's not unusual it happens every day,  
no matter what you say" 

"You can't say you never want to be loved by anyone!" Augustine smiled naughtily.

"You're correct, but I can say those words without instrumental accompaniment," he replied with a frown.

Augustine pouted.

_"Love will never do what you want it to,  
Why can't this crazy love be mine?"_

Lysandre felt a little guilty so tried to suck it up and appreciate the cacophony of words and instruments. He shifted from one foot to the other in an attempt to dance.

This made the professor smile once more. He sang along to the song as it ended.  
"It's not unusual to find out that I'm in love with you, I'm in love with you, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh~"  
He finished the song with a flourish and a small kiss on Lysandre’s lips.

-

"So?" Augustine asked, smiling hopefully.

"You have quite a nice voice, I'll give you that much," Lysandre replied with a smirk. "I am sorry though but it didn't really do much for me. To me, music is just something that happens in the background except when it's being forced in schools."

The professor pouted again. Then in a small huff, he went back to bending over his record collection. Lysandre still enjoyed this part of the process, watching his partner's pert rear sway.

"Aha!!!" he announced again. He shot up and replaced the record on the player. Letting it start up, he dashed back to Lysandre and took hold of his hands, placing one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. "'Sway'," he said, believing the title alone to be an appropriate explanation.

This song was slower, more seductive. Though, Lysandre could've come to that conclusion based on the way that Augustine was dancing now. He was indeed swaying, but a little more rhythmically this time. And he was starting to push his body closer to his until they were practically grinding against each other. 

"Augustine..." Lysandre accidentally grunted.

Smiling deviously, Augustine chose this point to twirl himself away, still holding one of Lysandre’s hands before coming straight back, practically crashing their bodies together ('Arceus, save me, it's almost like fucking...' Lysandre couldn't help noticing).

"Sway me smooth, sway me nice..." he sang along, right into Lysandre’s ear.

This sent such a shiver down Lysandre’s spine that he thought he'd cum instantaneously. It sent him straight into feral mode and forced him to take the lead of the dance, chanelling the rhythm like it was second nature to him.

-

When the song ended, Lysandre was at a temporary loss. He stood silently with his mouth open, his tongue practically hanging out. Augustine stepped away with another devilish smile.

"So, that's how you like your music?" he asked, practically purring.

"You are a teasing little-"

"Sit in my office chair, mon cher," he requested softly. Once he saw that Lysandre was gingerly carrying out orders, he rewarded him by once again bending over his record collection. He pulled out another record and slowly swapped it over.

As it took a moment for the song to start, he threw his labcoat aside and sauntered slowly over to his seated partner. Lysandre was watching him, eyes saucer-wide and breath hardly existent with anticipation.

As the song started up, Augustine practically writhed around as he sang along in a low husky tone.  
 _" Never know how much I love you_  
Never know how much I care  
When you put your arms around me  
I get a fever that's so hard to bear"

While singing and writhing ('Like a siren hellbent on my destruction!' Lysandre shrieked internally), he started unbuttoning his shirt, in time with the music, thudding like a heartbeat.

Once all the buttons were undone, Augustine opened the shirt and slowly, slowly, torturously slid it down his shoulders as he himself slid onto Lysandre’s lap. He continued singing all the while.

Lysandre thought fleetingly that perhaps this was a Perish Song. That they'd both die if this beautiful man mercilessly teasing him were to ever stop what he were doing. He tried to grab his hips to grind up against him, but Augustine lightly slapped his hands away then, still twirling to the rhythm, danced around him and tied his hands behind his back with the discarded shirt.

Satisfied with his handy work, he ran a hand through his hair and continued his display, whispering these seductive words into Lysandre’s ear, brushing his lithe body over his lap and running fingers provocatively over his belt buckle. He pulled it open then started on the top button of his slacks.

\- 

" Fever! Till you sizzle,  
What a lovely way to burn...  
What a lovely way to burn..."  
He continued whispering with the record as it neared it's end. "What a lovely- FUCK!"

Lysandre was surprised by this ending, until he noticed Augustine trying to cover up his exposed torso while staring at the elevator like a Deerling in headlights.

"Sophie! Um, ah, bonjeour! Cą va?" he asked, his voice now far too high pitched and his face adorably red.

"Cą va bien, Professor," his assistant replied, managing to hide her immense amusement commendably well. Though, having known Professor Sycamore for so many years, she'd seen him in much more blackmail-worthy states than this. "So, I'll leave these reports over _here_ and I'll tell everyone you're not to be disturbed for... How long do you think you'll need?"

Lysandre was mortified. He froze to the spot, hoping that either he’d melt into the furniture or he'd wake up to find it was just a fairly odd (but mostly enjoyable) wet dream.

"I think I'll just put my shirt back on and that'll be all," Augustine laughed, somewhat chagrined.

"Of course, Professor," she smiled, adding this to her mental checklist of weird things she'd walked in on her boss doing.  
She put down the files she was carrying then returned to the elevator.

-

"For the record," Augustine eventually piped up, untying Lysandre's hands and putting his shirt back on. "That doesn't usually happen when listening to music."


	3. College Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his university days, Augustine had a boyfriend called Jonathan for a while. Lysandre and Diantha are practically his full-time relationship gurus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I can't remember exactly why I decided to write this. Probably something to do with ORAS.
> 
> Also this oldish ask on my askprofessorstripperwhore tumblr blog: http://askprofessorstripperwhore.tumblr.com/post/76141135094/how-much-do-you-like-birch-i-hear-theres-some
> 
> Aaaand from that point, a sad amount of this is from life experience. Except Birch is like however many different girls and I don't have super close friends like Augustine does. *throws a pity party*
> 
> -

Augustine Sycamore had recently turned twenty and felt that he had the world at his feet. He was considered a genius, even among his classmates at the elite Lumiose University. But he didn't let that inflate his ego too much, so he was still the same old quirky Augustine. As a result, he had many friends and a select few close friends whom he loved to death. And on top of everything, he had a nice boyfriend whom he was particularly fond of.

\- - 

Like many evenings, Augustine was spending the night in his boyfriend Jonathan's dorm room. As the slightly younger boy slaved over a laptop, Augustine was bored and horny and therefore trying to distract him.

"Come on, mon cher," he purred, standing behind the laptop. "I can help you out with that in the morning. You deserve at least one night off!"

Jonathan tried to reply in Kalosian, but he still didn't have a grip on it, after only a year of studying in the region. He gave up and replied the way he normally spoke.  
"You wouldn’t get it, Gus. Not everyone's a prodigy like you."

Augustine felt hurt but also a tinge prideful at being referred to as a prodigy. He sat down next to his boyfriend on the old couch.  
"It's all about balance. 'All work and no play', you know?" he tried to comfort him. He wasn't sure if his words were working, so he rubbed at the young mans thigh to reinforce his point. "All work and no play turns Augustine into some kind of needy sex monster."

Jonathan sniggered. "Now I know that's not true. You're _always_ a needy sex monster."

The darker-haired man proved this hypothesis by kissing hungrily up and down the younger brunet's neck. 

"Gus, baby, please, I'm trying to get this done!" he whined, resolve showing cracks. 

Augustine destroyed all remaining restraint by lying across the man's lap and grinning up at him.

"Gosh dang," Jonathan sighed, putting aside his laptop and focusing on his catlike Kalosian lover.

\- - 

The next day, Jonathan effectively banned Augustine from his dorm room. So, instead, the Kalosian young man was sat sighing in the apartment he shared with his two best friends. Though they could afford much better, he, Diantha and Lysandre had all decided that the true university experience could only be achieved if they lived in a really shabby flat.

"What are you doing here?" Diantha asked him sarcastically. 

Augustine simply sighed a lot in response.

"Stop sulking," she ordered, throwing herself next to him on the tatty couch with a magazine.

Still sighing, Augustine studied the cover of the magazine. 

"'Top Ten Ways To Keep Your Man Interested'?" he read outloud.

"I doubt you need to be concerned about that, Sycamore," Lysandre announced from the kitchen area. He brought over coffee for his roommates. He squeezed inbetween them on the couch. "How could anyone get bored of you?"

Augustine blushed a little. Though Lysandre was a couple of years younger than him, he'd had this sort of effect on him for a while. On top of being dangerously handsome, he had this fierce intensity that Augustine sometimes found intimidating. 

"Shut up, Lys," he mumbled dismissively. He took his coffee and stood up to pace around.

"Augustine, do you ever stop to think that maybe he actually needs to do his work?" Diantha sighed. "Or that maybe you're smothering him slightly? Remember that Joy girl you dated?"

"Which one?" Lysandre muttered.

"Is it wrong to want to spend time with someone if you like them?" Augustine huffed.

"Non, but you do get clingy, mon ami," she sighed. "And not everyone can handle that. I know I couldn't."

Augustine tutted dramatically then stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Am I the budding actress around here or is he?" Diantha muttered, carrying on with her reading.

\- -

Augustine tried to be aloof for a few days. Or he planned to anyway. In actuality, he texted Jonathan after a couple of hours and even that had required some pretty strong self-restraint. The text wasn’t even anything particularly important, just a simple "miss u :((((((( xxxxxxx" but he still found himself desperate for a reply.

He had to start setting himself papers to write to try and distract himself. Then he tried making Poképuffs for his Chespin (which quickly resulted in Diantha and Lysandre banning him from the kitchen, as well as giving him an angry lecture on fire safety). Then he had to run to the Pokémon Centre to cure his Chespin's poison after it had eaten one of the Poképuffs.

By the time he got back, he still didn't have a reply on his phone. He gave in and knocked on Lysandre’s bedroom door.

\- - 

Lysandre let him in, concerned. 

"Look!" Augustine wailed, waving his phone at him. 

The redhead quietly took it and scanned the last segment of conversation, choosing not to look further, cautious of how x-rated Augustine could get in conversation. "I don't see anything wrong here."

"Exactly! I texted him this morning and he still hasn't replied!"

Lysandre sat on his bed, with it's rich red sheets and indicated for Augustine to sit next to him.

"You're overthinking," he told him, putting a comforting arm around him. "Just be patient."

"I can't help it. Maybe I'm mad. Is it mad to want to love and be loved?"

"Of course not, mon ami," he replied, letting the man rest his head on his shoulder. "It's human."

Augustine snuggled against him, grateful for this friendship. He chuckled to himself as he thought about how he'd wanted to ask Lysandre out on a date before he'd gotten together with Jonathan. But despite having known him for a few years now, he had no clue whether he was even interested in men. Or women, for that matter. 

Lysandre had started stroking Augustine’s hair comfortingly. Before long, he was practically purring.

\- - 

A while later, they heard some noise, followed by some shouting. "LYS, I THINK THAT LUNATIC'S BEEN KIDNAPPED!"  
Then Diantha stood in the doorway.

"Okay, maybe not then," she muttered. "So um... what's going on?"

"Augustine needed a little reassurance," Lysandre explained.

"Uh huh, so that's what they're calling it now. Well, just use a condom and don't tell Jonathan," she sighed, prancing off again.

The two young men laughed sheepishly.

"Thanks for this," Augustine chuckled, preparing to get up and leave the room.

"My door's always open for you," Lysandre replied. Remembering what Diantha had just said, he shook himself then added: "That's what friends are for, right?"

Augustine wasn't sure why, but he felt a little sad at those words. He left and went back to his room.

His pocket vibrated.  
"miss u 2 xx"  
He stared begrudgingly at the measly number of kisses.

\- - 

A couple of weeks had passed and that particular blip had been almost dissolved from Augustine’s memory. 

A Saturday night, he was straddling Jonathan's lap, stroking his recent attempts at facial hair and kissing him fiercely.

"Hmmm, I think I like the beard," he purred. "Maybe I should try growing one?"

"No Gus," he replied, running his hands up the smaller man's shirt. "I like you the way you are."

At the time, these words were flattering. Little did Augustine know how much he'd come to dwell on them later.

\- - 

University and life in general carried on as usual for about another week or so. Then another quiet patch began and Augustine didn't quite know how to deal with it again.

Despite Diantha's stellar advice of "Calm the fuck down" and Lysandre’s reassuring smiles, he found himself sneaking into Jonathan's dorm building near the middle of the night and rapping his knuckles furiously against the door to his room. It had been raining quite hard on the way there, so when Jonathan finally answered, he was met by quite the sight. A wild soaking wet furious Augustine had appeared!

"Gus, what..?" was about all he could manage. He was bleary eyed, wearing only his boxers and had clearly just been woken up.

"Why've you been ignoring me?!?!" he screeched.

Jonathan silently led him in, closing the door behind him, mumbling about people needing to sleep.

"Sit down, Gus."

Augustine did not want to sit down. He wanted to pace around and shout a lot. He wanted to throw himself to the floor and cry. He wanted to run away. He knew what was coming. Desperate to delay the inevitable, he pushed passed his soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, waltsed to the kitchenette and put the kettle on.

Jonathan sort of stared at him as he did this. He thought maybe this was just an odd dream and that he wasn't actually awake yet. But as Augustine got a lot more forceful with crockery, loudly tapping teaspoons of coffee and sugar into a plain cup, things started to feel real again. It was time to get serious.

Once it was ready, Augustine drank his coffee and glared at Jonathan.

"Please sit down," the younger man repeated, sounding pained. He pulled his flannel dressing gown from a hook on the wall, put it on and tied it up.

Augustine sat down forcefully on the couch. He carried on drinking his coffee and not speaking.

"I'm sorry I haven't really communicated very well lately," Jonathan replied, sitting next to him. He stroked at his own beard, as was now becoming kind of a habit.

Augustine put his cup on the coffee table in front of them and folded his arms defiantly.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," the larger man carried on.

This struck Augustine with fear, like an arrow of ice to the chest.

"And I've kinda... realised some things about myself."

He wasn't sure of the specifics, but he knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, like laying his neck on the block, ready for the swing of the axe.

"I really never meant to use you and I really did like you, but I just really don't think I'm into guys. I'm really sorry, Gus."

Augustine was silent for a moment, still biting his lip and his eyes still shut tight. Then a tear fell down his cheek. Followed by many more. He stood up and started shouting.  
"Salaud! You could've fooled me all those times you begged to fuck me!"

"I'm sorry, Gus. I mean we had fun, right?"

"Fun?! Is that all I was to you?"

"Sorry, I guess that didn't come out right..." he mumbled, blushing a little. "I really did like having sex with you but just... I don't know."

Augustine was crying almost hysterically. "Have you been fucking girls while you've been fucking me? Do I need to get checked for crabs or something?" 

"Please stop saying the f-word..." he muttered.

"Fuck you!"

"Fair enough," he sighed. "But no. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't want to hurt you."

Augustine gesticulated with his hands and bitter expression as words failed him at this point.

"We can still be friends though, if you want," Jonathan offered.

"Fuck you, Birch," Augustine spat. "And don't you dare talk to me again."

And with that, he left, slamming all the doors that crossed his path out of the building.

\- - 

Still raining heavily, still crying furiously, Augustine practically ran home. He had to lean on the door to his apartment for a little while as his fingers were trembling too much to grip at his keys.

Eventually, he entered the apartment and the first thing he did after locking the apartment door behind him was to knock on Lysandre’s door. After a moment of silence, Lysandre opened the door, wearing a black silk wool blend dressing gown. He quickly studied Augustine's appearance then, having made his judgement, wrapped his arms around him.

Augustine sobbed against the man's shoulder, relishing the comfort of those big strong arms.

"You're going to be fine," Lysandre told him.

"He dumped me because I wanted to grow a beard!" he sobbed.

The redhead was a little confused but nodded anyway.

"I'm sure there's probably a little more to it than that," he prompted him, still holding him tight.

"He said he's not gay. I'm clearly too feminine to be considered a man but too masculine to be worth more than a few fucks?" 

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Augustine," he whispered. "Come on, I'll make you some Hot Chocolate."

Augustine attempted to smile at him. 

\- - 

Lysandre prepared him a comforting drink then they sat on the couch together.

"So, what exactly happened?"

"Basically, I broke into his dorm room, asked why he was ignoring me then made myself a coffee."

Lysandre burst into laughter. Then remembered it was the middle of the night so covered his mouth and quietened down.

"Then it's definitely his loss," he smiled. "He didn't make you happy while you were together anyway so you're better off on your own."

"But I thought I was... That he was..." he muttered, started crying again.

"Mon ami, you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to feel sorry for yourself. You're allowed to feel."

His head still a mess, he took this as a demand. "You're allowed to feel."  
He put his drink down on the floor then pounced to kiss Lysandre.

\- - 

Lysandre was shocked by the mouth on his. He wanted to return the kiss, to yeild to the man. But he had to push him away.

They stared at each other, wide eyed and terrified for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Augustine whispered, looking away. "I need to stop kissing straight guys..."

"I never said I was straight," Lysandre replied bluntly.

"Oh Arceus, asexual then..." he carried on, getting panicky and crying hard again.

"Augustine, will you listen?!?!" he barked. "You understand as well as I that sexuality can be fluid. That is not the matter at hand here. I didn't push you away because I'm not attracted to you. I... I have been attracted to you pretty much for as long as I've known you. I'm honestly surprised you'd never noticed."

Augustine laughed. "You could've said something sooner! Then I'd never have given that tête de noeud a chance!"  
He leant in to try kissing him again.

"Augustine, _non_ ," he hissed. He took hold of his hand and pulled him close. Augustine was desperately confused. "Mon cher, I'm saying this for both our sakes: I'm not going to be your rebound fling."

The smaller man carried on crying, but a smile graced his lips.  
"So..."

"We'll put this conversation on the backburner for now," Lysandre said quietly into his ear as he continued hugging him.

"But imagine Diantha's face if she walked in on us making out," he chuckled.

A loud sigh. "Arceus, will you guys just fuck and get it over with so some of us can get some sleep?" Diantha was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking grumpy.

The two men chuckled then, after a courteous kiss on each cheek, they both went to their own rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, and if it went unnoticed somehow, Jonathan is Professor Birch.
> 
> He has no official first name and also he is practically JonTron.


	4. Conjugal Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel-ish thing for "La Petit Morte".
> 
> Augustine and Lysandre are permitted prison visits then finally a conjugal visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk.  
> Wheeeeeee.
> 
> I debated adding actual sex but I practiced RESTRAINT.

Bill, bill, subscription to "Pokémon Professors Monthly" (with a cover photo of Professor Jonathan Birch, therefore condemning the entire magazine to the recycling bin), another bill, lab coat catalogue and…

Augustine Sycamore studied this last piece of mail. The envelope was fairly plain. He turned it over and saw the address, immediately tearing it open to read its contents.

_"Dear Professor Augustine Sycamore,_  
(RE: Inmate Lysandre de Fleur)  
A request for closed supervised visitation has been-" 

He paused and gulped in anticipation before lowering his gaze to the next word.

_" Approved."_

And that was all he needed to read to start laughing and crying joyously to himself. A Fennekin on the table looked at him with slight fear.

-

Later that day, in the evening, Augustine answered the phone, receiving his regular phone call from the referenced inmate.

"Augustine," he said by greeting. Augustine could imagine him nodding as he said this.

"We got visitation!" he replied, too excited for casual niceties.

"We… We did?! Mon dieu, Augustine, that’s fantastic!"

"You were the one who did the hard work! Well, hard time, I suppose… So… Thank you for behaving!"

Lysandre chuckled. "It’s easy not to get into petty fights around here when you’re my size and everyone seems to know everyone else’s charges."

"Thank Arceus for your size," Augustine laughed quietly, blushing at his inadvertent innuendo.

"Indeed. Anyway, the phone’s about to cut out so, j’taime, I’ll hopefully see you soon."

Augustine felt giddy. "Au revoir, mon amor!"

"Au revoir, mon coeur."

And then the phone started beeping. Augustine hung up then started dashing joyously around the apartment.

He let Lysandre’s Pyroar out of it’s ball (despite the trouble getting it in there in the first place) and excitedly told it the news. The Pyroar, almost dangerously expressive, looked at him bitterly.   
‘I could skin you, wear your hair and visit him myself’ It’s eyes seemed to say.

-

It seemed to take moments or years for the day of the first visit to finally arrive.

Augustine arrived at the prison and was frisked. He tried to make jokes to lighten the situation, but unsurprisingly, they did not appreciate it, especially considering he was visiting one of their most potentially dangerous prisoners.

Once deemed safe (albeit somewhat irritating), they escorted him into a small concrete block room, with just a chair, a security camera on the ceiling, a phone and a glass window looking into an identical cubicle.

He sat down and tapped nervously with his feet. Anticipation was forcing his heart from his chest.

When at last the towering redhead was escorted into the other room, his hair tied back and his body covered in an orange jumpsuit, Augustine almost forgot how to breathe. Lysandre sat down, picked up the phone receiver and put a hand to the glass.

Augustine could only giggle for a moment. It was a strange reaction, he knew, but it seemed to escape him like an eruption. Once he’d calmed down enough, he put a hand on the glass over Lysandre’s and picked up his own receiver.   
"Did they frisk you on the way in?" He rambled automatically. Common greetings had left his mind. "I don’t know if that was part of the service or because I’m just handsome!"

Lysandre let out a hearty laugh and stroked at the glass in-between their hands.   
"As it’s you, it could be either."   
Smiling, he just looked at the other man. Taking everything to memory. He was still heartbreakingly handsome and his own animal instincts told him to break the glass and have his way with him, but he managed to restrain himself, however strong the urges. He shook himself to reality.   
"Have you been looking after yourself?"

"Oui, Lysandre," he replied petulantly.

"You’ve been eating and drinking properly? Not just coffee and wine?"

"Yes, Lys! Or should I call you ‘Maman’?"

Lysandre laughed again, just wanting to kiss the man. "I’ll take your word for it. Besides, you do look a little healthier than the last time I saw you."

"At the trial," Augustine whispered reluctantly, for reasons unknown to him, he just felt it had to be said.

"Indeed… But you really do look a bit healthier. Stand up and do a twirl for me?"

Augustine laughed, but he could see that Lysandre meant it. Still laughing, he put the phone down on the windows ledge and followed orders.

"Your backside looks a little fuller, so I definitely believe you," Lysandre purred.

More laughter. "Ohhh, so that’s why you had me do that. You’re going to be making one of those ‘Fifi’ things I’ve seen about on TV, aren’t you?"

"I have no need for such things, I have restraint," he smirked.

They laughed together again.

A clock beneath each phone flashed two minutes.

"We’ve got two minutes left," Lysandre explained.

"What? It’s hardly been long enough!" Augustine argued.

"It’s the rules, mon cher." Defeated, he lay his head against the cool glass.

Augustine kissed the glass over his forehead.

"I’ve missed you," Lysandre purred down the phone.

"I can’t even express in words how I’ve missed you," Augustine replied. "Maybe I should mime?"

"Non, mon cher, they do watch the security footage and they’ll likely ban you from the premises for strange behaviour."

Augustine started crying before he could even think to stop himself. 

"You’ll carry on being good, right? So I can visit again?"

"As long as you carry on looking after yourself," he replied.

Both doors opened and their escorts entered.

"Au revoir," they both said as they were led out.

-

Though they had such a short visit, they both left with glowing hearts.  
Lysandre returned to his cell and closed his eyes, cementing the encounter to memory.  
Augustine made the journey home then excitedly told all his Pokémon every detail. Then, with freedom on his side, he called up their mutual best friend Diantha and bored her with the details.

-

The next meeting was a few weeks later and started in very much the same way.

Augustine giggled pathologically then came out with "That shade of orange doesn’t suit you so much, isn’t there a way you could redden it up a bit?"

Lysandre laughed. "The only way I can think of, would definitely put a stop to any visits, Augustine. Besides, this is but a minor fashion blip compared to some of your wondrous fashion tragedies."

"I have no idea what you mean," he replied, haughtily puffing out his cheeks.

-

Their visits continued like this for some time. With the glass and the security cameras, their conversations had to remain brief, safe, almost casual, though the temptation was to tell each other everything while gently caressing one another.  
Between visits, Lysandre had to almost shut down emotionally in order to survive.  
Augustine, on the other hand, swung constantly between joyful, sad and, occasionally, strangely horny. Sometimes he’d find some of Lysandre’s old body lotions and smell them, letting memories possess his mind and his body.

-

Bill, bill, subscription to "Pokémon Professors Monthly" (with a cover photo of Professor Samuel Oak, therefore condemning the entire magazine as guilty pleasure bed time reading material), another bill, lab coat catalogue and…

The clinically plain style of envelope was becoming very familiar to him now. Each visit was preempted by one of these envelopes.

He tore it open to find out when the next visit would be.

_"Dear Professor Augustine Sycamore,_  
(RE: Inmate Lysandre de Fleur)  
A request for a 48-hour unsupervised conjugal visitation has been Approved." 

It took a moment to sink in. Then he started laughing and crying hysterically. His Pokémon gathered at his side to check on him.

"It’s good news, mes petites!" he told them, tears still running down his face. "It’s the best news!"

-

As the days led up to the visit, he read and reread the letter constantly, packing his bags and making sure everything was regulation.

"‘All lubricants must be factory sealed’," he read out loud to himself. "Perfect excuse to buy more then…"

He chuckled giddily to himself, anticipation running through him like electricity.

-

On the day of the visit, he left the taxi with his holdall and made his way through various stages of security until he got to the conjugal visitors centre. One concrete block in front of several little buildings, almost like tiny houses, each one surrounded by high wire fences.

He entered the blocky building and presented his letter of invitation and his holdall.   
A female guard, short but pretty, took the holdall and took it to a table, where she studied its contents with a torch.  
A male guard, bulky and visibly grumpy told Augustine that he would need to frisk him. Augustine nodded, having to bite his lip to stop himself from making jokes or gushing about Lysandre. He had been getting quite used to these frisk searches, having become so commonplace. But today, anticipation betrayed him and he had to give a nervous little smile then look away, as the man spread his legs and came across an obvious bulge in front of his jeans. He passed over it with true professionalism and continued until he deemed the man not to be hiding anything (apart from an increasing hard-on).

The male guard stood up and stared Augustine down while he waited for his colleague to bark out "All clear!". Augustine breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, Mr Sycamore-" the male guard started.

"Actually, it’s _Professor_ Sycamore," he interrupted, somewhat smugly.  
The guard gave him an annoyed look, reminding him of Lysandre’s Pyroar. He flinched in response.

" _Professor_ Sycamore," he carried on. "As I’m sure you’re aware, this is a great privilege for your partner, so any attempts at escape or wilful destruction of property will result in loss of _all_ future privileges for him."  
Augustine nodded along. He feared he’d make jokes if he tried responding verbally.

"As this is a forty-eight hour visitation, the cottage has been equipped to suit this. There is a fully operating bathroom and a stocked kitchen. Any food items used will be paid for from either the inmate’s or your own funds."

"And though I doubt you’ll need them with the amount you’ve brought," the female guard piped up. "There are condoms in the bedside drawers."

The male guard chuckled slightly then returned to his former seriousness.   
"In the case of emergency, such as accidental fire or dangerous activity from the inmate, there are red buttons like this one," he said, showing an example button on the wall. "There will be one by every door. It is to be pressed in real emergencies only, nothing petty like running out of food or condoms. If you press this button, a SWAT team will arrive to tackle the situation. Understood?"

He nodded again, feeling even more nervous than he had before. What if he fell over and landed on a button?

"The front door will be completely locked for the full forty-eight hours. So, if you suffer from claustrophobia or any other such conditions, this is your last chance to back out."  
Augustine shook his head now.  
"In which case, take this," he said, handing him back his holdall. "And follow me."

-

Augustine followed the guard to one of the cottages.   
The guard pressed a button on an intercom system and barked "Inmate, we are about to enter, step away from the door!"  
The door was opened and Augustine’s heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the man he loved, stood at the other side of the room. No glass between them. He was still wearing an orange jumpsuit, but his hair had been restored to its former glory for the occasion. 

"Enjoy your stay, gentlemen. Remember the rules," the guard said, leaving them alone. The door whirred as it locked behind him.

-

Alone at last…  
Augustine and Lysandre simply stared at each other from across the room for a few moments, as if trying to tell reality from a dream.

Eventually, Augustine dropped his holdall, strode purposefully across the room and jumped up to kiss the other man. Lysandre’s stoic demeanour immediately melted, as he now kissed that beautiful mouth and caressed that handsome face.

"I can’t believe this is real," the taller man whispered, running a hand through Augustine’s hair.

"It’s definitely real, if it was a dream, I wouldn’t have had an erection when the scary guard frisked me," Augustine chuckled, curling his fingers through hair at the back of Lysandre’s neck. "And I wouldn’t have bit through my lip trying not to make jokes the whole time!"

"Je’taime, Augustine. Never stop being you."

-

Augustine practically purred, jumped up to kiss his lover again and ground his hips against his. He was stopped by his partner backing away slightly. He was confused for a moment.

Then Lysandre scooped up his shorter lover (bridal-style, he silently noted) and carried him into the bedroom. He carefully placed Augustine onto the bed.

"I’ve been dreaming of this for so long," Lysandre murmured reverently. Climbing next to him on the bed.

With hungry eyes and dizzy fingers, Augustine started unbuttoning his own shirt.

"Non," Lysandre purred, holding his hand. He let it linger there on his chest a moment so he could feel his heart beating. A wild tempo he’d never grow bored of.   
He finally left the hand where it was and simply pulled Augustine into his arms and held him tight.  
Augustine could feel Lysandre’s heartbeat now. He looked up at his lovers face, now truly content. He smiled to himself and curled up against the other man, truly feeling the appeal of his simple desire.

Nothing else mattered, as they were now free to hold each other.


End file.
